


The Physical Ramifications of a Lifetime Apart

by fenellaevangela



Series: Triptych [2]
Category: Space Cases (TV)
Genre: Gen, Implied Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26346325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fenellaevangela/pseuds/fenellaevangela
Summary: The triplets were long gone - as far as everyone else knew, anyway. If the memories from Goddard's duplicates were sitting comfortably next to his own in Goddard's mind, then that was no one else's business. They were just memories. What were they going to do, walk in and make a scene?
Series: Triptych [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1914385
Kudos: 5





	1. Seth

_Apart_

There just weren't many ways for a person to earn an honest living while also trying to keep the interplanetary military off their back.

That's what brought Seth to Saturn's moon.

Specifically, he was three layers of security deep into the main branch of Dione's First Lunary Bank, and trying to get deeper. Saturnian security codes were notorious among certain people for being very easy to break – assuming that you had the time. All you needed was decent autodecoder and a willingness to wait around and manually recalibrate it after every. Single. Level of encryption.

The boredom could only be matched by the fear that someone could walk in on you as the time ticked by or God forbid, your window of opportunity simply ran out.

Seth was in the middle of a recalibration when the door behind him began to hiss and whine, the metal of the hinges melting off from the outside. Seth swung towards it just in time to watch as the door fell loudly to the floor and a man walked in. Three weapons visible and not a single insignia in sight: a space pirate, if Seth had ever seen one.

Seth's hand was on his holster before he even turned around, but he didn't pull out his weapon. As surprised as he was to be interrupted by _not_ a bank employee but obviously another thief, it clearly didn't compare to whatever was going through the other man 's head because he had stopped abruptly in the smouldering doorway and was gaping like a damn fool. If he was going to flounder then Seth was in no hurry to remind him that they could be having a firefight instead.

“Look . . .” Seth started, slowly moving his hands into the air.

It was no use. The pirate wasn't quite as dumb as he looked, although he didn't even go for one of his own weapons and tried turning the heat torch he'd forced the door open with on Seth instead. Seth calculated his odds and rushed forward before the thing could ignite, knocking it out of the pirate's hands and punching him as hard as he could.

Too bad space pirates were a tough bunch. 

He took a couple hits in return before rallying enough to try and move the fight towards the door. The pirate didn't seem to spot his strategy, and when Seth was finally able to shove him against the melted hinges he thought he had the upper hand; he hadn't anticipated that the pirate might be wearing armour under his ratty pirate clothes. He had to duck as the pirate came back at him swinging.

The fight went back and forth, back and forth, in a way that Seth would probably enjoy if it wasn't eating up the time before the bank opened again in the morning.

Eventually the two of them were forced to stop fighting for a moment, just a moment, and Seth was trying to use the respite to figure out a way to finish this quickly when the tense atmosphere of the room was shattered by a loud voice calling out from the hallway.

“What's the hold up?”

Seth was dumbstruck as a third man came into the room and, no . . . 

“Well, as I live and breathe,” said Reaver. _Reaver_. “Is this Seth fucking Goddard I see? Is Star Academy's finest working as a bank security guard now? Gave up on the Stardog dream, did you?”

“Well, I'm not so convinced of Stardog ideals anymore, if that was obvious,” Seth said, and gestured at his autodecoder as it buzzed away on the side of the vault, waiting for him to complete its recalibration.

Reaver's eyes went wide as he noticed the device for the first time, but then he just snorted. “You? Mr. Top of his class, can I have extra credit, brown noser? How the hell did that happen?”

“Let's just say that people change and move on, okay?” Seth paused. Well, it was worth a shot.“So is your team going to walk away or are we going to have a problem?”

Reaver hemmed and hawed for a moment, then got to the point. “We do outnumber you.”

“Two to one. I've beat worse odds.”

“I got a guy at the door and a getaway driver ready with a ship outside. You willing to bet you can get through Rants here,” Reaver gestured at his good, who straightened up at the acknowledgement, “before I call the others in?”

Seth absolutely wasn't. But negotiations were about confidence, after all, and Reaver would never admit it but he'd always been wary of him. He looked Reaver directly in the eye. 

“Maybe.”

Reaver gave him a considering look before speaking. 

“What about this. You got a fence for that Saturnian zircon?”

Seth's silence was answer enough.

“Well, I do,” Reaver said. “Reliable, too. If your doodad can get into that safe I'll handle the sale and give you a cut.”

The goon spoke up for the first time. “Boss - ”

“Can it.” Reaver turned back to Seth. “Do we have a deal? Or do we have a problem?”

Time was ticking. Seth held out his hand. “Deal.”

_Together_

“Well, well, well,” said Reaver, all-too smug considering he was relinquishing his weapon to a Stardog while he spoke. “If it isn't Seth Goddard. Gotta say I never thought, if we ever saw each other again, that you'd be back in that lieutenant uniform.”

The soldier cuffing Reaver gave the restraints a rough tug. “Watch your mouth when you speak to Captain Goddard, pirate.”

Reaver laughed. “Oh, you're a _captain_ , now. Well, damn, the Stardogs must have changed since I was at the academy. Ex-pirates can get promoted now, huh? Maybe I should reapply. I hear the retirement plan's top notch.” 

Goddard could feel, rather than see, confusion ripple through the soldiers around him. He couldn't talk about this in front of his crew; time to nip this in the bud. He gestured to the Stardog closest to him.

“Give us the room,” he ordered.

As the others filed out, Reaver continued to stare at him with that same disgusting confidence that always seemed to ooze off of him. Goddard had _no_ idea how any part of him had ever liked this guy.

“I'm not who you think I am,” Goddard said, as soon as the room was clear.

“I think we go far enough back that that argument isn't going to fly, Seth. What, did you think your little flirtation with piracy was going to stay under wraps? Ha!” Reaver smirked. “As if I haven't already told every scumbag in the system that the academy's golden boy helped me pull off the Reutina 4 heist. Just because you ran back to the Stardogs with with your tail between your legs, begging them to take you back . . .” 

Goddard snapped. “He never would've done that!”

Reaver blinked, his gaze turning sharp. Goddard watched as the other man gave him a closer look.

“He?”

“I know you know what I mean,” Goddard said. He sure as hell wished Reaver _didn't_ know, but his other self had thought it was a good idea, at the time.

There was a pause, and then:

“You mean the _clone thing_?”

Goddard couldn't help rolling his eyes. “For God's sake, how many times do I have to say that it wasn't clones? We were - ”

“- Split in three,” Reaver said, frowning. “Yeah, yeah. I remember. He tried to explain the whole deal to me a couple times and I always thought it was bullshit . . . But if you're really not the Seth I knew, then you wouldn't remember those conversations. Right?”

Busted. “I'm not one of the parts. I'm whole, unsplit.”

“Uh-huh,” said Reaver. “To be clear, you're saying that Seth skipped out on me because you _absorbed_ him?”

There was something distinctly unsettling about having a man like Reaver look at him with such obvious moral disapproval, as if he even had a leg to stand on.

“I don't need someone like you judging me, all right? We're supposed to be one person, and now we are. Whatever one of them did while we were apart is history.”

Reaver looked thoughtful. “Do you have _all_ of his memories?”

From the gleeful chuckle that followed, Goddard knew his pinched look was answer enough for Reaver.

“Are they not happy memories, to you? Seth seemed to be enjoying himself at the time.”

“Seth had the moral compass of a Spung furwrangler,” Goddard spat. 

“Hmm, maybe,” Reaver said. “He knew how to have fun, though. And you know what else he was better at than you?”

Sighing, Goddard crossed his arms. “No. What?”

“Checking hostages for lockpicks.”

Goddard had just enough time to think, _shit_ , before Reaver was lunging at him with both hands aimed for his throat. Goddard tried to dodge out of the way but could only get so far, so he dropped down and swept his leg out to knock Reaver off balance. He tumbled on top of him and the two men ended up grappling on the hard steel of the ship's floor. Every time one managed to get the upper hand the other man would slip out of his grasp with a practised move. They always had been evenly matched.

Goddard could have called for the guards outside the door and Reaver would be back in cuffs in moments. Reaver probably knew that – hell, it was the logical thing to do; he was probably expecting it. But Goddard kept his mouth shut and tried to get Reaver in a headlock instead, grunted as Reaver elbowed him in the ribs and twisted out of his grip, huffed as the other man shoved him flat on his back and pinned him to the floor.

Reaver smirked down at him.

“You and I have been in this position before,” he said. His weight was heavy on Goddard's chest. “I think we both know how this ends.”

Blood was rushing in Goddard's ears. He snarled and heaved himself up, flipping their positions around.

Reaver's smirk was, if anything, even more smug. “Damn, you really do remember. He's actually in there, huh?”

“ _Fuck_ you,” Goddard said.

Reaver gave a bark of laughter.

“With your men outside? I didn't know you were into that, Seth.”

The worst part was that that stupid line would've worked on Seth, unfortunately. 

“That's Captain Goddard to you,” he said, then called out for the guards and handed him over.

If he was lucky, he'd never run into that damn space pirate again for the rest of his life.


	2. Tweedle-Dum

_Apart_

There just weren't many places a person could lie low when their face was plastered all over the solar system with a high alert tag.

That's what brought Tweedle-Dum to the asteroid belt.

The asteroid belt wasn't colonized. Officially. The orbits weren't reliably stable and none of the asteroids could easily maintain an atmosphere, even with cutting-edge technology, so none of the planetary governments considered them desirable territory. But unofficially? The belt provided lots of free real estate for people who, for one reason or another, wanted to stay off the grid.

Tweedle-Dum hitched a ride to one of the more established asteroid camps on a merchant ship that didn't look too closely at his identification once he showed them the cold hard Mercurian chits that he offered instead of credit. The settlement where it dropped him off had plenty of business for the traders – who were mostly selling bulk grain and MREs, which didn't inspire much confidence in the local cuisine – but wasn't set up for visitors. A lot of the locals at the trading post wouldn't meet Tweedle-Dum's eyes and no one seemed inclined to talk, so he stepped out into the street, such as it was. 

And it certainly wasn't much of a street, not in the conventional sense; the raw face of the asteroid was uneven below his feet and the buildings he could see seemed placed haphazardly, no straight paths between them. Add to that the fact that the air stung Tweedle-Dum's lungs and the 'sky' shimmered in a way that hurt his eyes and there just wasn't anything welcoming about the camp. It sure as hell wasn't a place anyone should be making a home.

Tweedle-Dum sighed and started towards the nearest cluster of buildings.

It took some trial and error – signage was also placed haphazardly, as far as he could tell – but eventually Tweedle-Dum found the local bar. If he was going to get his bearings, figure out where he can stay for the night and where he should look for work the next day, this was where he would have to start. The few patrons who paid him any heed at all gave him distrustful glares as he made his way to counter, but he had to make this work. Where else was he going to go? Sliding into a seat he managed to persuade the proprietor to relieve him of a few more chits in exchange for a glass of dubious liquor.

It was _awful_. He swallowed it down anyway.

He had nearly forced the entire pint down his throat and was wondering if he'd be forced to order another to keep his seat when the Saturnian next to him put his own drink down with a heavy, deliberate _thud_.

“Haven't seen you around here before.”

Tweedle-Dum peered over at him. “No. 

“We don't see many strangers around here,” the man said.

Tweedle-Dum nodded. “I figured. Small, quiet, out of the way - that's why I chose Juniper 9.”

The Saturnian gave him an assessing look. “We're not looking for trouble.”

“Me neither. Just anonymity,” Tweedle-Dum said. “I don't need a free ride, either; I can carry my weight, do whatever's needed.”

“Hmm. And what do you need anonymity for?”

Tweedle-Dum bristled at that. “Not for any reason I'd let the whole bar hear.”

“Ha! True enough,” said the Saturnian. He then leaned into Tweedle-Dum's personal space. “But tell me this. Why should I let you stay in my camp when you could turn tail and sell out my people to the Stardogs at the first opportunity?”

 _So that's it_ , Tweedle-Dum realized. He was being vetted, then. This man must have been an authority of whatever sort existed in a place like this. He'd have to tread carefully.

“I don't put much trust in the Stardogs,” he said. “In fact, I can promise you one thing.”

“Oh yeah?”

Tweedle-Dum hoped this was the right play. “You don't sell me out, and I won't sell you out.”

The Saturnian snorted. “I've sent more petty criminals packing than you could imagine. Having a record doesn't make you trustworthy.”

“So look me up,” Tweedle-Dum said, gesturing towards the Saturnian's data pad sitting on the counter in front of him. “Name's Seth Goddard.”

It only took a moment for the wanted poster to come up on the Saturnian's search. Tweedle-Dum knew that because he watched the other man's eyebrows disappear into his rainbow hairline as his eyes widened in shock. He whistled.

“Oh, they want you _bad_ ,” he said.

Tweedle-Dum shrugged, then took the final swig from his glass and grimaced as it went down.

“So can I stay?” he asked.

“For now,” the Saturnian said. He offered his hand. “My name's Ricardo. I'm sort of the mayor around here.”

They shook on it and Ricardo went back to scrolling through his pad. Tweedle-Dum hoped he'd had the sense to use a secure connection, or all Tweedle-Dum's promises of keeping the Stardogs out of it were going to be proven wrong sooner than you could say 'automatic data trace.'

After a few moments Ricardo looked back up. “You graduated from Star Academy?” 

“Top of my class,” Tweedle-Dum admitted, although the accomplishment felt hollow now.

“Hmm, I might have a use for someone with an education like that. It may not be what you're expecting.”

Tweedle-Dum shrugged. “Whatever's needed,” he repeated.

That seemed to satisfy Ricardo, and the other man stood up from the counter. For the first time Tweedle-Dum really noticed how he was dressed, and was surprised to see him in a drab outfit that seemed genuinely jarring compared to his rainbow hair.

“Aren't Saturnians supposed to be . . . brighter?” Tweedle-Dum asked.

That earned a laugh and a grin. “Have you seen this place? I'm the brightest thing here. Wouldn't want to dazzle people. Come on, let me give you the proper tour.”

The proper tour consisted of Ricardo pointing out all the same buildings Tweedle-Dum had noticed on his way to the bar, but with their purposes attached: That one was the doctor's clinic. That's the fabric craft co-op, and next to it, what amounted to their local library. That one was the _other_ clinic, which was cheaper but everyone's pretty sure the Earther who works there doesn't have a real medical degree.

“You still let them treat people, though?” Tweedle-Dum asked.

Ricardo shrugged. “We don't get a lot of medical professionals willing to leave the cushy UPP life for this place, so we take what we can get. He's done a lot of good and he hasn't hurt anyone.”

“Yet.”

“You're pessimistic,” said Ricardo. Then, bizarrely, “That will help.”

Ricardo pointed out the shed that housed the central computer uplink and then they turned and a small building came into view. 

“This is our school,” Ricardo said.

“A school?”

Sizing up the building, Tweedle-Dum wasn't sure how he felt about that. The place was tiny; by far the smallest building that he'd seen in the camp since arriving. Wasn't it awful that the school was so small? But surely the fact that there were children living in this harsh environment at all, that this ramshackle community even had need for a school, was a worse. Ricardo seemed to read Tweedle-Dum's thoughts on his face.

“I know it's not much, but we make due,” he explained. “Why don't we take a look inside?”

“You're the tour guide,” Tweedle-Dum said.

They made their way into the school building and it was, if possible, even more bleak than the exterior had suggested; a single room, exposed corrugated steel for walls, and fluorescent lighting that was only marginally better than the painful light outside. Sitting at a refurbished third gen computer terminal in one corner of the classroom was a young Uranian boy who looked up from his screen as they entered.

“Hello, sir,” the boy said to Ricardo.

Ricardo smiled at him and returned the greeting, then turned to Tweedle-Dum. 

“Veevek here is our only student.”

Tweedle-Dum blinked. “I would have thought parents would teach their child at home, in that case.”

Educational programs could be accessed from any terminal installed within range of the central computer uplink, after all, although with the slapdash organization of the settlement Tweedle-Dum wouldn't have been surprised if some of the dwellings actually were out of range. That wasn't the explanation he got, though.

“My parents are dead,” Veevek said. “The war.”

It was a story Tweedle-Dum had heard before, unfortunately. Except . . . 

“But why - ” Tweedle-Dum turned towards Ricardo with a frown. “How did he end up here? Uranus has a foster system. If he didn't have other family to care for him then someone else on the planet - ”

“People always think 'someone else' will take care of it,” said Veevek.

Tweedle-Dum's frown deepened.

“Most of the people in the Juniper camp are refugees from the Spung War,” Ricardo explained. “We lost too much during the war, and when the dust settled there was nowhere left for us back home.”

“The UPP Council didn't - ”

The boy interrupted again. “Screw the UPP Council.”

Ricardo sighed. “Veevek, we've talked about this before.”

“You don't like them either,” Veevek insisted.

“Why don't you get back to your lessons,” Ricardo said, pointedly.

Veevek grumbled under his breath, but he did turn back to his computer terminal and quickly seemed to be engrossed in his schoolwork.

“Veevek's a smart kid,” Ricardo said. He led Tweedle-Dum back outside as he spoke, firmly closing the door before continuing. “He deserves a better education than he's getting right now. Some of us try to help out when we can, but there's something to be said about a dedicated teacher.”

“That's what you had in mind for me?”

Becoming a private tutor wasn't the life Tweedle-Dum had envisioned when he'd slipped through the Stardogs' fingers. It's nothing he'd ever imagined at all; he didn't think teaching suited him.

"That's my offer,” Ricardo said. “What do you think?”

Well, everything had to be worth a try once. “Sure. Sign me up.”

_Together_

It had been an uneventful few weeks aboard _The Christa_ when the ship first showed up on their sensors and Goddard was worried that they were due some trouble. The ship's design didn't match any that they'd encountered recently, but none of the nearby planetary systems appeared to be inhabited, either. It was small but armed, so Goddard cautioned the crew to be on alert before Catalina hailed them.

The image on the viewscreen shifted and the interior of the strange ship appeared, revealing several people on their bridge. Goddard could hear murmurs of surprise from his own crew, which he would have expected if he'd been in the right mind to think about it; after all, the people on the other ship were human - Earthers and Mercurians and Uranians – and _The Christa_ was still years away from UPP space. But all Goddard could think about was how he could swear he was seeing a ghost.

“Veevek?”

Goddard was aware enough to notice that the woman in the captain's chair of the other ship looked annoyed at him for that. Maybe she'd been talking, but if so, he hadn't heard her anyway and wouldn't have been able to respond. He was too distracted by the bottom of the viewscreen, where a young Uranian man was staring back at Goddard from the the other ship's pilot seat.

“. . . Dad?”

* * *

“Uh, you're going to explain before their shuttle docks, right?” Harlan asked, catching up with Goddard before the commander had even reached the jump tube.

“I knew Veevek when he was younger and we haven't seen each other in a long time,” Goddard said. “Anything else can wait until he and I have talked.”

“But he called you 'dad',” Catalina pointed out.

Goddard stopped and turned. Despite his best efforts to convinced them that someone should remain on the bridge, the entire crew had followed him towards the jump tubes when he invited Veevek and his captain to come aboard _The Christa_. The students and Miss Davenport – THELMA, at least, could follow orders and was at her station – were staring at him with open curiosity.

“That's between me and Veevek,” Goddard insisted. “You can come along but he's not coming over here to answer your questions, all right? This isn't an interrogation.”

They all agreed, nods and murmured affirmations all around, but Goddard was resigned to a few slips.

“Fine, now come on,” he said. “I haven't seen my son in years.”

* * *

When the airlock hissed open Goddard found himself face to face with the other ship's captain, the woman he had made such a bad first impression on. She was Mercurian and – oh.

“You look taller in person,” Goddard said.

The woman showed her teeth. It was technically a smile. 

“Thank you; I've been told I'm intimidating,” she said. “But before we exchange pleasantries I want to make sure we're all on the same page, here.”

Goddard nodded. “Of course. And what page would you like that to be?”

“This isn't a fun little meet and greet,” the captain said. “I _had_ been under the impression that my pilot was a war orphan, and I want to be perfectly clear that if I find out that you've hurt him - ”

“ _Captain Jenni_ \- ”

She spoke louder to drown out Veevek's protest. “ _If you've hurt him_ , my crewman and I are getting back on my ship and leaving.”

“I . . . can't promise that Veevek wasn't hurt,” Goddard admitted. “That's something I' like to ask him about, actually. If you'd like to come aboard? Sit down?”

Captain Jenni seemed unconvinced, but at Veevek's urging she agreed and Goddard led them both into a conference room that his crew rarely used. The five students and Miss Davenport trailed in behind them.

Just as they were settling in the captain held up a hand. “Before you two get enmeshed in your reunion, I have a question for you, Commander.”

“Of course.”

“Veevek has been with my crew for years,” Captain Jenni said. “We've been through more than a few scrapes. He agreed to come with me on this mission, where we left charted space behind to look for a new life. I consider us close friends. Don't you agree, Veevek?”

Veevek smiled. “I do.”

Captain Jenni nodded, then looked back to Goddard.

“What kind of father were you,” she asked, “If he's never mentioned you to me once?

Goddard wasn't sure how to address that, actually. “Well, technically . . . ”

“He's not really.” The Uranian's cheeks darkened in a deep flush. “I didn't mean – it was just such a surprise - _ugh_!”

Veevek covered his face in his hands and Goddard tried to hold back his smile at how familiar the gesture was, how many memories it brought back. 

“It's fine, Veevek. I . . .” He couldn't believe he was having this conversation in front of an audience. “I know we never got to that point, but I would have liked to. I think we could have.”

“You're not really his dad, then?” asked Catalina, then let out a little _oops_ and covered her mouth.

Goddard sighed. “It's fine, Catalina. No, I only knew Veevek for a few months. We met on Juniper 9.”

“The anarchist colony?” exclaimed Miss Davenport. “Why on earth were you there of all places?”

Veevek scowled. “It was a refugee camp, thanks.”

“No, but we learned about this at the academy,” Radu explained. “They were a group of separatists who tried to break off from the UPP alliance after the Spung War, but when the Stardogs found out they were planning to overthrow - ”

“I was _ten_ , I wasn't trying to overthrow anything! We just had no where else to go,” said Veevek.

“That's the thing,” Goddard said. “Where _did_ you go? I went on a supply run and the camp was a ghost town afterwards. When I heard about the raid I thought maybe you were . . . dead.”

“I thought _you_ were dead!” Veevek said. “You were gone too long, and then, well.”

A hush fell over the room. The raid on Juniper 9 wasn't taught at Star Academy for no reason.

Then Veevek continued.

“But you're a Stardog, now,” he said, gesturing at Goddard's uniform.

Goddard hesitated. “I was a Stardog then,” he admitted.

“So were you . . . were you spying on us? Are you the reason - ”

“ _No_ ,” Goddard said. “I had no idea there was a raid planned. It's a lot more complicated than that.”

Captain Jenni allowed a shimmer of heat to ripple across her scalp. “Explain yourself, then.”

Goddard took a deep breath. He supposed his crew was going to find out eventually. “To start, I should probably tell you that that wasn't, technically, me . . .”


	3. Epilogue

_Together_

There just weren't many excuses a person could make to get out of going to a celebratory banquet when that banquet was being held in your honour.

That's what brought Goddard to the coat check of the UPP Council's largest ballroom. 

Yes, the coat check was still technically at the banquet, but being at the centre of attention was exhausting and he could enjoy the party more if he got to slip away once in a while. He was a bit worried what the brass would say if anyone caught him hiding, but was this party for him or not? 

Well, it wasn't just for him. It was for _The Christa_. It had taken two years longer then they expected. It had nearly cost Goddard his life, more than once. The whole thing had ended in a battle that no one – not on _The Christa_ or in all of UPP space – had anticipated. But _The Christa_ had gotten back home, in one piece, with the entire crew accounted for.

(And a few extras, but that was an entirely different story.)

That had been almost six months ago and Goddard was still getting invitations for conferences and parades and banquets – and hell, it was nice to be appreciated. But he wasn't a young man anymore and appreciation took a lot out of a person.

Goddard looked both ways before leaving the coat check, then began heading for the exit. He'd put in a good few hours and now the bed in his hotel suite was calling his name. He'd nearly made it to the foyer when he was spotted.

“Commander!” called a voice from behind him. 

Goddard turned to find a woman waving in his direction as she pushed her way through the crowd. He stopped and waited as she made her way closer.

“Sorry,” she said once she arrived. “It's not commander anymore, is it? You're Captain Goddard now, congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Goddard said. He waited for her to say something else, and was about to excuse himself when - “Wait, Doc?”

She smiled and adjusted her glasses, cementing the recognition.

“You remembered!”

Goddard laughed. “How could I forget the woman who put me back together? How have you been?”

“Oh, fine!” she said. “Nothing compared to _you_ , I'm sure. But - ” she glanced in the direction he'd been headed. “Were you leaving?”

“Can I tell you something?” Goddard asked, leaning in conspiratorially.

The science officer nodded.

Goddard spoke in a stage whisper. “I haven't gotten used to the crowds.” He shrugged and continued at a regular volume. “ _The Christa_ basically ran on a skeleton crew. The same half-dozen faces, day in and day out for nearly a decade? You get used to the sameness, I guess.”

“Oh, of course! You should take your time adjusting. I just wish I'd found you sooner,” she said. “I'd been hoping we could talk.”

Goddard raised his eyebrows, curious, but the science officer glanced away and – oh. Blushed.

“Talk?” asked Goddard. He wanted to be sure.

“Just – to catch up,” she said.

Well, then. Goddard offered her his arm.

“Why don't we go up to my room?” he said. “And please, Doc, call me Seth.”


End file.
